


Try to Make the Worse Seem Better

by fell_in_love_didnt_you



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms, baz pitch - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Multi, carry on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fell_in_love_didnt_you/pseuds/fell_in_love_didnt_you
Summary: Please be mindful of the tags. This work contains rape and non-consensual sex between an OC (original character) and a canon character who is a lead in this.





	1. Chapter 1

Baz lay in bed and took the blows. 

His boyfriend Evan had been getting worse as of late. Baz would wake up to get ready for university, and if Even decided he was too loud, Baz would go to school with a few bruises that he had to hide with a convenient sweater. Or like now, when he had accidentally left a mess in the flat somewhere, he’d be slapped around a bit before Evan wanted make-up sex. 

So Baz was laying in the bed, letting Evan forcefully take his clothes off and mark his body and hold him down until even more bruises appeared over his body. Baz wanted to say no. His body was saying no, his mind was saying no, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words; even if they did, Evan wouldn’t stop. No didn’t stop him.

It hadn’t been like this when he and Evan had moved in together at first. Of course, they had the occasional bout of anger that included yelling, but Evan had only gotten physical like this in the last six months. The first time he’d forced himself onto Baz was after a really bad fight. Baz had retorted sarcastically as always after Evan had said something, and only this time did Evan push Baz against a wall and slam his fists against the sides of his head. 

Baz hadn’t known what to do. For once in his life, he was silenced. He didn’t have a sardonic line then. He’d pursed his lips together in fear, and his eyes had watered as Evan screamed in his face. Then Evan was gone when he saw that, crying himself as he apologized to him. And Baz believed him. 

Sex with Evan like this always hurt. Evan was angry, and he didn’t make sure Baz was okay. He just pushed Baz’s face into the mattress and took him from behind like a sex doll. Baz’s fists clenched into the pillow until he could feel crescent marks making their way into his skin through the pillow case. It was a long seven minutes before Evan was finally done, rolling off Baz and walking towards the bathroom. Baz watched through his cloudy eyes as Evan walked naked out of the room, and when he saw his silhouette disappear, he finally let go and cried. 

**

Studying at the library was always something Baz did to clear his mind. He had so many tests to study for, and it wasn’t like he had anyone to bother him. Evan was really the only person Baz talked to outside of his professors or mandatory group projects, and when he didn’t have to go home, he was here. 

The library was dimly lit with the lamps that had green glass tops that Baz loved. It was an aesthetic Baz had reblogged many times on tumblr or retweeted thousands of times on twitter. He was obsessed with the smell of old books and wooden desks and glass lamps. The only thing he didn’t like was the other people who also partook in the aesthetic. It felt like this was his place. He worked here on weekends all day, helping students like himself. He’d actually met Evan like this in his gap year. 

As he poured over many notes for his psychology course, someone cleared their throat above him, and Baz flicked his hair out of his face and pushed his glasses up on his nose to see who it was. He was going to say hello, but the words died in his throat when he saw the boy in front of him. He had gorgeous, golden curls and freckles and moles that covered every seeable inch of his body. He had sky-blue eyes, and he was smiling even though Baz was sure they’d never met before. 

“Hi,” the boy said, still smiling down at Baz. Baz waved awkwardly, and the boy chuckled. “I was just wondering if I could sit here.” Baz nodded ab it quickly, and the boy muttered out a, “Thank you,” as he sat down across from Baz. He pulled his bag into the seat beside him, and Baz laughed. “What?” the boy asked, chuckling himself. 

“Your bag,” Baz answered, straightening his glasses again. “You just kinda look like someone who would carry a canvas backpack.” Baz thought is sounded douchey after he said it, but the boy sighed and nodded, laughing again. “I’m Baz, by the way,” Baz said, extending his hand out to the boy. 

“Simon,” the boy supplied, taking Baz’s hand. “But mostly everyone calls me Snow ‘cuz it’s my last name.”

Baz laughed this time and replied, “I’ll call you Snow then.” He looked down at their joined hands before realizing that bruises Evan had left were clearly visible. Snow looked down when Baz did, and Baz shakily took his hand back, covering his wrist with his pastel blue sweater. 

Baz was thankful when Snow changed the subject. “What are you studying?” he quietly asked, beginning to take out his own notes. Baz noticed the messy handwriting that looked like chicken scratch and the colorful pens that spilled out of a small, rainbow pouch he had. “I’m in the English course, but I still think I made a dire mistake and should’ve gone to clown college.” 

Baz rolled his eyes and smiled brightly even though he didn’t want to. It really was a stupid joke, but it made him smile nonetheless. “I’m in psychology, and it’s my second year here. I don’t know if I made a dire mistake, but I also don’t know what you can do with a psychology degree besides hang it up in your flat.” Snow giggled and nodded, uncapping a pen and beginning to doodle on the corner of a page. 

“Well, it’s actually my first year on campus,” Snow admitted, and Baz saw that he was doodling a small rose bush, “but that’s only because I took more than a year for my gap year.” 

Baz quirked his eyebrows and asked, “Why? I felt like I couldn’t wait for my gap year to end. It was so boring.” 

Snow hummed and replied, “Well, I was dating a girl named Agatha who is actually in America now, and she had really wanted to see the whole of the European Union, and I promised to make that happen, and we went practically all over Europe for two years.” Baz’s heart made a little dip at the fact that Snow dated girls, but he felt immediate guilt afterwards. That almost felt like cheating on Evan. “What did you do?” Snow asked. 

Baz thought for a moment, deciding if he wanted to tell the whole truth, and instead decided to tell half of it. “I actually worked as a librarian here for basically the whole year, and when school started, I switched to weekends only.” 

“So, you fit the sexy librarian stereotype then?” Snow asked without even looking up from his doodle. Baz blushed crimson, and he felt the heat rise all the way from his ears down his chest. Snow looked up and laughed a bit embarrassed before adding, “Sorry if that was weird.” 

Baz shook his head no, but before he could say something, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, and his heart sank when he saw it was Evan, and the text already sounded like he was mad. 

Where are you? Came home, flat empty. Call me now. 

“I hate to have to do this, but I have to go,” Baz mumbled, beginning to pack his things into his cross-shoulder bag. 

“Oh,” Snow replied, looking up from his doodle. Baz pushed back in his seat and began to walked away, but Snow caught up with him, touching his shoulder lightly. Baz felt the heat of Snow’s hand even through two layers of clothing, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good-excited or bad-excited feeling. Snow handed him a small piece of folded paper and said, “See you here tomorrow?” 

Baz was silent, noticing how he was a few inches taller than Snow even though Snow was tall himself. Baz then said, “Yeah.” Snow smiled, saying goodbye before he walked back to the table the two had occupied. Baz stood there for a minute, admiring Snow as he walked away. He then remembered he had to get home and left. On the tiny piece of folded paper was a rose bush with Snow’s number under it. 

** 

Baz didn’t want to walk in the door, but he knew it’d be worse if he didn’t. Evan was waiting for him behind that door, and Baz knew he was really in for it. He could feel that he’d done something wrong in the hours he’d been away from the flat. The guilt was tearing away at him as he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. 

Just as he’d suspected, Evan was waiting on the couch by the tv, sitting in complete silence even as Baz hung up his overcoat and bag. Baz knew that he’d really fucked up then. When Evan yelled immediately, Baz at least knew that it would be a conflict that was relatively small. However, when he was silent, he was really pissed. 

Baz nervously twisted his hand together and clasped them in front of himself before saying, “Hi.” His voice was quiet, though it sounded much louder in the silence of the room. “How was your day?” 

Evan bit at his bottom lip angrily before turning to look at Baz full-on. The anger Baz saw in Evan’s eyes made him look at his feet. He only heard Evan get up and walk towards him. He could feel Evan’s body just in front of his own, closing him in against the wall. 

“Tell me what you did wrong,” Evan said in a low, monotonous voice. Baz looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, fists balled at his sides. This was going to be a bad one, he thought to himself. 

“I-I don’t know,” Baz whispered, nails biting into his palms. 

“What?” Evan asked harshly, cracking each of his knuckles individually. 

“I don’t know what I did,” Baz repeated, his voice catching in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

“It doesn’t even FUCKING matter if you don’t know what you did!” Evan exploded, fist slamming against the wall just to the side of Baz’s face. “Where the FUCK were you?” Evan demanded. “I come home, only expecting that you be here, and where the hell are you? Off fucking someone? Being the whore you are? Come on, say something, bitch!” On the last word, Evan slapped Baz hard across the face, and Baz could already feel a red mark forming. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say, shrinking in the anger. 

“Why are you sorry?” Evan asked, his voice back to its low tone. When Baz didn’t answer, Evan grabbed his jaw and forced Baz to make eye-contact with him, his fingers slowly digging into Baz’s skin. “Answer me.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was,” Baz muttered, thankful when Evan let go of his face. He hadn’t even noticed that Evan’s other hand was pinning his wrist to the wall, and it still held him tight even after Baz had apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” His voice caught again, and Baz started to cry, both from the guilt he felt and the response from Evan. 

Evan let go of his wrist and wrapped his arms around Baz’s waist, pulling Baz into an unwilling hug. Even though Baz hated it, he was glad that he was being held. He felt so guilty for not texting Evan. Evan was kind enough to love him, to let him live with him even though he was living on a college student’s income. Baz didn’t deserve him, and Evan had told him that before. 

Evan started to take Baz to the bedroom, and Baz began to say, “No, I don’t want to,” but the look Evan gave him made Baz shut his mouth. Fifteen minutes later, when Evan was walking away to take a shower, leaving Baz without an orgasm and covered in his boyfriend’s bodily fluids, Baz curled in on himself. 

** 

Baz was in the library before Snow, and when Snow finally did show up, he smiled with tight lips and gave him a polite, “Hello.” 

Snow did notice the difference. Baz could tell, but he said everything was fine when Snow asked. “I actually just need to study,” Baz said when Snow began to speak, and Snow seamed to pretend to understand. 

An hour later, as Baz finished studying, Snow looked over and said, “Shit! I have to go to work, but I wanna text you later tonight, okay?” Baz nodded silently, and Snow gave him a bright smile before dashing out of the library. When Baz finally felt he was ready to leave, Evan was waiting in the parking lot in his old car. 

“How was work?” Baz asked as he slid into the passenger side. Evan grumbled and didn’t really reply, and Baz didn’t push the subject. He felt tired even though he’d done practically nothing during the day. Psych classes had dragged on, and he’d just blindly taken notes. His face hardly bruised, and by now Baz had purchased a few little products secretly to hide it from others. 

Besides, Evan loved him. He only did that to make Baz better. 

**

Snow came around every day when Baz was at the library. They’d begun to talk about their lives more personally than objectively. Baz reviewed Snow’s papers before he turned them in, and Snow helped Baz with the psych evaluations that were part of his course. 

Eventually, they got on the subject of Baz’s boyfriend. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Snow asked, doodling in his notebook again as Baz wrote outlines for his next paper. He stopped in the middle of the word ‘problematic’ and looked up at Snow. Snow met Baz’s eyes and smiled that smile he always did at Baz. It made Baz feel quite weird if he were being honest. It wasn’t the awful-weird he felt with Evan most of the time, and it wasn’t the scared-weird he felt in crowds of people. It was an entirely new thing. 

“Uh, actually, yeah,” Baz replied, looking back down at his outline. He didn’t miss the way Snow’s face fell just a bit, and he wanted to smile a little bit at that. 

Then Snow let out a huff of laughter through his nose and said, “Figures. What’s their name?” 

Baz felt his throat tighten. He wanted to tell Snow; he really did. But he didn’t know if Snow would even want to be his friend afterwards. Baz had made the mistake of befriending a girl named Lillian who (when he told her about Evan) told everyone in their course immediately. That was probably why he had no friends within his course, or outside to be frank. 

Baz clenched his jaw before saying, “Evan.” Baz looked up from his notes through his eyelashes and pushed his glasses up his nose to see Snow clearly. 

Snow smiled and mumbled, “Okay.” He retuned to his doodle and was still smiling when Baz looked back down to his paper. He wanted to cry and smile at the same time; it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, though a new one had replaced it. Baz didn’t understand what it was or what it meant, but he didn’t like it too much. 

“Would you like to come over to my flat sometime?” Snow asked, still looking down at his notebook. This one was a deep, cobalt blue with the word ‘NOTHING’ scribbled across the front in Snow’s awful handwriting. “I have a flatmate named Penny, and I feel like you guys would be great friends.” 

Baz wanted to answer yes immediately. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to got to Snow’s house for a very long time. Snow brought the smell of a flat filled with baked goods and fresh tea, and Baz desperately wanted that for his own place. However, when he’d tried to make cookies to surprise Evan once, he’d just gotten made that Baz had made a mess and wasted food. 

“Yeah,” Baz replied tentatively, checking his watch. He had three hours before Evan was supposed to be home, and Baz asked, “Could we go today? I just have a lot of time to kill, and Evan wouldn’t mind. I’m sure of it.” Baz knew Evan would completely mind. He just wouldn’t say anything later. 

Snow also checked his watch and agreed, beginning to pack up his stuff. Baz followed suit, packing his things much neater into his bag than Snow. If Baz packed a bag like Snow, he’d most likely have an aneurism when he opened it again. 

Snow talked about his flatmate Penny while they walked to his car. Baz had never seen his car, and he was surprised when Snow unlocked a newer car from the year before. Baz raised his eyebrows from the passenger side while they were still standing beside the car, and Snow shrugged his shoulders. 

“My dad owes me a lot for some past stuff,” he explained, opening the car door and sliding in. Baz did the same, setting his own bag in his lap as he buckled up. 

“Why does your dad owe you?” Baz asked. They drove out of the campus library parking lot and onto the road, leaving student dormitories behind. Snow shrugged again, and Baz decided to drop it. Maybe like Baz didn’t want to talk about Evan, Snow didn’t want to talk about his family. Baz could understand that. He didn’t mention his family much. 

“My dad doesn’t live ‘round here,” Baz mumbled, looking down at his hands. He heard Snow hum beside him questioningly, and he continued. “He and my step mum live with the rest of my half-siblings past London on a large estate. I’m actually pretty sure they have horses now.” He laughed at that last part, and Snow did, too. 

“No, they probably don’t,” he added, looking out the window at the passing buildings. Baz vaguely knew this area. He’d been over here years ago when his father had taken him into town for something. Living in the heart of London was something Baz’s father had warned him about, and Baz was happy he didn’t heed that warning. He loved it here, even with the awful traffic and scary alleyways. 

“My mum and dad lived in a different country when they had me,” Snow replied, and Baz looked back over at him. He was smiling sadly at the road ahead of him. Baz waited silently for him to continue. “My dad told me they had a lot of chickens and a few dogs, and their house was big enough for eight people to sleep comfortably.” He was silent after that, and Baz felt like he was looking into something Snow wanted to keep private. 

“Why did you guys leave?” Baz finally asked, and Snow laughed one short, little puff of breath through his nose. 

“Um, well, my mum passed when she gave birth to me,” he answered, laughing at the end though Baz knew it hurt to say that. “I guess my dad didn’t want to stay there, and I can’t blame him. Then he put me up for adoption, and he hunkered down in a townhouse with his new girlfriend.” 

Baz waited for a moment before he said, “My mum’s dead, too.” Snow briefly looked over at him before turning his attention back to the road. “She was killed by some robber when I was seven.” 

“It’s worse that you knew her,” Snow mumbled, hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice. 

“It’s worse that you didn’t,” Baz replied. The rest of the short car ride was silent, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice to know that there was someone like him so close. Baz had never known someone enough to be this close, to admit that he had lost someone he loved so dearly. 

They parked in a lot behind another tall, white building that was made of brick. It wasn’t in a bad part of the city and it wasn’t in bad shape from the outside, so Baz thought Snow’s dad owed him both an arm and a leg. Snow led the way, and three flights of stairs later, Snow was pulling out a tiny, golden key to open the white front door. 

“I’m home, Pen!” Snow called as he opened the door. Baz slowly followed, watching as Snow took off his overcoat and threw it over the back of a chair. “Come in,” Snow added, closing the door when Baz finally crossed the threshold. 

It was a nice place, Baz thought. The sitting room was cozy but not small, and the kitchen had a breakfast bar that let Baz gaze at the nice cabinets and updated appliances. There was a hallway to the left of the kitchen entrance that Baz assumed led to bedrooms or maybe an office. 

“Your place is nice,” Baz finally said as he began to take off his coat. 

Snow was about to say something in return when he heard a girl’s voice yell out, “Back so soon? Guessing things with the guy at the library ended early or something?” Baz blushed and looked away from Snow to see a girl with bright purple hair walking from a room down at the end of the hall. “But I guess it’s not like you’ve made a move or anything.” 

She looked up from the floor as she exited the hall and saw Baz. “The hell…?” She let the question die on her tongue when she looked over so Snow. “Oh! Oh my god!” she yelled, laughing at herself and then at Snow and Baz’s faces. “You should-If I could show you-Holy hell, your faces!” she spluttered, gripping her sides. 

Baz laughed a bit himself at Snow’s crimson face. It was a bit funny, even if it was traumatizing to have a friend admit a secret accidentally. 

When the girl finally calmed herself, still slightly giggling, she extended her hand out to Baz and said, “Hi, I’m Penelope. You must be Baz.” Baz shook her head and nodded, smiling when she said, “I know much more about you than you probably know about me.” 

“Oh?” Baz asked, quirking his brows up at Snow, who still looked embarrassed. “How much?” Penelope laughed and asked if they could sit, and Snow eventually joined Baz on the couch as Penelope took the seat near the front door. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Penelope said, smoothing her hair behind her head as she pulled it into a tight ponytail. “I didn’t know if you were real or not because I had never even seen a picture of you.” 

Baz laughed and said, “I’m not really a picture kind of guy. If Snow put a camera to my face, I’d probably push it away.” 

“To be fair,” Snow cut in, leaning on his knees with his elbows, “I don’t shove cameras in people’s faces.” 

The three talked for what felt like only minutes but what was really hours, and when Baz checked the time on his phone, he had three missed calls from Evan and it was almost time for him to go home. He said goodbye to Penelope and got back into Snow’s silver car. 

They were silent for a little bit as Baz gave directions to his home, and then Baz asked, “You talk about me to her?” 

It took Snow a few seconds to get what Baz asked. “I guess. I hadn’t really noticed it until she mentioned it.” Snow blushed again, though this time it was less red and a bit pinker. Baz smiled softly to himself. 

“Penelope’s cool,” Baz added. “I like her hair.” After a few seconds, he asked, “Are you two together?” 

Snow laughed out loud, taking ta left turn at a light. “No,” he replied. “God no. Penny and I are just friends. In fact, she’s got a boyfriend in America.” 

“Oh,” was all Baz could say. Sooner than he’d like, they were pulling into the lot in front of Baz’s apartment building. Snow saw him before Baz did. 

“Who is that guy?” he asked, pointing towards someone slumped against the back of a car. 

“Shit,” Baz mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt nervously. Snow did the same, but Baz grabbed his hand as it unclipped the seatbelt. “Don’t. Don’t get out of the car.” Snow looked confused, and Baz climbed out of the car before he could ask questions. 

Evan looked over as Baz shut the passenger door. He looked even madder than when Baz had come home late; Baz wanted to get back into Snow’s car and drive far away. However, he knew he couldn’t. He needed Snow to leave now, before he saw anything that would change his mind about Baz. 

Baz walked toward where Evan was angrily stomping over, hoping that he could ask to go inside before Evan exploded. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Evan demanded as he met Baz behind a car. As Baz pulled his arms up to push Evan off of him, Evan grabbed Baz’s forearms roughly and shoved him against the car. Baz could feel his fingers pressing into his skin. “The hell do you think this is?” he screamed as he grabbed Baz’s phone out of his hands. He threw the device down to the ground, smashing it to pieces. 

“Evan, please,” Baz begged, trying to move but being forced to stay still. “Can we please go inside?” 

“No! Where the hell were you? Don’t even lie to me to say you were at the library either! I checked!” Baz could feel himself beginning to cry as Evan shook him roughly. Evan let go of one of Baz’s forearms and slapped him, harder than he had weeks before. Baz fell to the ground, grabbing his own cheek and still crying. He didn’t get up. 

Baz was just hoping Snow wasn’t looking. 

** 

The next day, when Baz met Snow in the library, his face was littered with bruises and he smelt like sex. Baz wished he could’ve scrubbed it off before he’d left the flat that morning, but Evan had been in the shower, and Baz knew better not to bother him after a fight like the one they’d had the night before. 

Snow didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just looking at Baz from across the library table. Baz didn’t say anything either. He didn’t want to draw attention to the obvious. Snow hadn’t seen Evan actually hit him, but he’d seen him drag Baz up the stairs to their flat, yelling loudly. 

Apparently, he’d made up his mind, and Snow leaned across the table slightly and pressed his thumb lightly against Baz’s split lip. Baz looked up from his notes, his eyes filled with shame. He didn’t want Snow to see this; it was humiliating. Snow’s hand brushed over the bruise on Baz’s left cheek and then up to the red mark above his eyebrow. 

“Talk to me,” Snow whispered, his hand still holding Baz’s head. Snow’s hands were warm, Baz thought. They were much different than Evan’s, which were almost always cold and never felt this soft. “What happened?” 

Baz knew Snow knew. There was literally no way he couldn’t. It’s not like Baz would’ve gone anywhere after seven at night, and there had been no gang members or muggers hanging around Baz’s apartment building. The only person it could have been was Evan, and Baz hated the fact that he couldn’t even deny it. 

“He loves me,” Baz replied, pushing away Snow’s hand reluctantly. “He knows what’s best for me.” The words stung Baz’s sub-conscious. He knew they were wrong, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny them. Evan had told him repeatedly that he was doing what was best for Baz, that this was what he needed to get better, to be deserving of love. 

“That’s not true,” Snow insisted, looking over the bruises. “People who love you don’t beat you.” 

Baz couldn’t think straight. The only words going through his mind was ‘he loves me’ and ‘he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t love me’, but they all felt fake and disappeared on his tongue. He somewhat knew he needed to listen to Snow, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say it. 

Baz didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a little splash come from his notebook. He wiped away his hot tears and mumbled, “He loves me,” again, trying to make up the excuses in his mind. “He loves me,” he said again, quitter this time. 

Snow walked around the table and sat down beside Baz, slowly wrapping an arm around Baz’s shoulder. Baz continued to sniffle quietly mindful of the eyes watching the two of them. He quickly pulled himself together (something he’d learned while being with Evan), and mumbled, “I can’t go home. He scares me.” 

Snow nodded, rubbing tiny circles with his fingers into Baz’s shoulder. After a few moments, Snow said, “Come stay with me.” Baz looked up from his notebook and Snow added, “You don’t have to, but I know Penny wouldn’t mind.” 

Baz stayed silent for a moment before he replied. “Okay,” he whispered. He began to place his notebook back into his bag, and all Snow had to do was grab his own bag as the two made their way out to Snow’s car. It was hours before Evan was supposed to pick Baz up, and Baz vowed he wouldn’t answer his phone when Evan would eventually call. 

**

Snow had been right. Penelope hadn’t minded him staying, and she even went to grab the takeaway that they’d all agreed on. Baz had tried to insist on paying for his part, but both Penelope and Snow had rejected the money, saying it wasn’t a problem. When she left, Snow had turned the television on and sat beside Baz on the couch, keeping a respectable distance between them. 

But Baz scooted over to Snow, laying his head on Snow’s broad shoulder. He could feel the warmth through Snow’s clothing. It as a bit addicting if he was being honest with himself. Touching Snow always made him feel a warmth he’d never had before, and he liked the feeling maybe a bit too much. 

Snow looked down at him and didn’t say anything. 

Hours later, when all three of them had filled up on Chinese takeaway and bad fortune cookies, Penelope had retired to her room at the end of the hall beside the kitchen. It left Baz and Snow still on the couch, staring blankly at the television in front of them. Baz felt cold, shivering on his end of the couch, and he scooted up to Snow once more. 

“Are you tired?” Snow asked as he himself yawned loudly. It made Baz yawn as well, and he nodded into Snow’s chest, wrapping his arms around himself tighter. “Well, you can take my bed. I’ll have the couch.” 

“No,” Baz mumbled, yawning again. “It’s your bed. I’m fine out here.” 

Snow tried to put up a fight, but his own need for sleep and Baz’s stubbornness beat him out, and Snow grabbed a few a few blankets from his linen closet and made the sofa into a makeshift bed. Baz had to crouch a little to fit his long body on the couch, but he wouldn’t complain. He was tired, both emotionally and physically. He was glad the next day was a Saturday, and he was going to take off his work in the library for the day. 

As Baz turned on the couch in his sleep, he dreamt of Evan, though it was much more of a nightmare. Evan was yelling at him and beating and him, and Baz couldn’t do anything except take it and take it and take. He could vaguely feel himself turning about, and before he knew it, he had rolled off of the couch and onto the floor. He blindly patted around for his phone in the dark, and when he found it, he saw that it was only one in the morning. 

He didn’t want to sleep on the couch alone. He felt lonelier than he’d ever been in his entire life in the dark, on the floor, and trying to catch his bearings. It was even lonelier here than it had been at Evan’s place, even if he had truly been isolated. 

Baz soon feel asleep on the floor, not even bothering to grab the blanket Snow had given him. 

**

The next morning, Baz felt someone shake his shoulders, and he groaned into the hardwood floor. He was freezing, and by the light of his eyes, it wasn’t even past five. The shaking didn’t stop, and Baz peeled his eyes open. 

Snow was crouching beside him, and Baz nearly had a heart attack when he saw he was shirtless. It was nearly impossible to stop the blush that crept up his cheeks, and he prayed that the low light would conceal it from Snow. If Snow had seen it, he hadn’t said anything. 

“You’re on the floor,” Snow mumbled, chuckling. “Get back up.” 

“Too tired,” Baz groaned, shoving his face into the crook of his elbow. “Sleep here.” 

Snow sighed, and Baz felt himself being lifted from the ground before he could stop it. He fell back against the tiny couch and sighed himself, listening to his bones creak and crack like the shifting of an old house. And perhaps he was an old house, abandoned and forgotten, dirty and used to the point of no return. 

“Should’ve let me lay there,” Baz whispered, curling up into the warm blanket he’d forgotten. “Would’ve slept better.” 

“Well, from my experience,” Snow replied, sitting down on the couch beside Baz, “the floor is no place to sleep. Makes your back fucked up later.” 

“You have a bed, Snow,” Baz mumbled, turning his head to look over at Snow’s neck, which was littered with moles on the expanse of his tan skin. “I have a…nowhere.” 

Snow shook his head and turned to look at Baz, noses flirting with each other in the close proximity they were put in. “You don’t have a nowhere,” he insisted, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. “You have a me and a Penny.” 

Baz hummed in the back of his throat, still looking at Simon though now focusing on his eyelashes and eyebrows and cheeks and nose and lips. He had really good lips, proportionate to the rest of his face yet still nice and full. And Baz wanted to kiss him then. He didn’t know if it was because he’d wanted to kiss him ever since that first time they met, but it was too strong of a feeling to ignore. 

Snow opened his eyes barely, and when Baz tried to make eye-contact, he saw that Snow wasn’t looking at his eyes; he was looking downwards. 

Snow did lean in, and Baz really wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him maybe as much as a drowning man wanted air. He needed it. 

So when Snow did kiss him, it was disappointing that he didn’t know what to do. His only experience in anything had been Evan, and this was much softer. Evan took and forced and drowned Baz until he couldn’t do anything except lie there. Snow just lets Baz set a pace, one that’s comfortable and okay and nice and not too much. 

But Baz can’t think about anything except what Evan would do. What Evan would say if he walked into this room and saw the two of them. He somewhat knows it’s already over, and he should be happy, but this feels like cheating on the only person he’s ever been with. It’s a gut-wrenching twist, and he feels himself crying before he knows he is. 

Snow stops kissing him and pulls back away from Baz, and Baz feels the sudden loss of warmth and cries harder at that. How can this be so difficult? 

“I’m sorry,” Baz whimpers, turning his red face into the couch cushion. “It’s really not you.” 

“It’s him,” Snow supplies, and Baz nods weakly. Snow just wraps his arms around Baz and whispers, “I don’t care if you never want to kiss me or always want to kiss me, Baz.” Baz nods into Simon’s shoulder, his tears soaking through the fabric. “I just care about your happiness.” 

Baz hiccups a few times, and when he finally catches his breath, he says, “I like you.” 

Snow chuckles, and he turns so that his nose is rubbing against Baz’s. “I like you, too,” he whispers back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS HAS SMUT

Simon still tries to get Baz to open up. A lot.

It’s been months since he started crashing on Simon’s couch, and even though they’re kissing and cuddling and doing all the couple things, Baz doesn’t sleep beside him. Which is completely fine, Simon tells himself. It’s definitely more than fine. With all the shit that asshole Evan did to Baz (and Simon only knows maybe a fourth?), he’d be surprised if Baz ever lay beside him. 

He’s fine with waiting. He’s fine with slow kisses that only occur when Penny’s out of sight and cold feet brushing against his on the couch while they watch Moulin Rouge for the billionth time because, ironically, Baz likes Baz Luhrmann, and Simon likes the movies that make Baz smile. 

It’s strange, he does admit. Baz rides with him in his shitty, old car to school every morning, and they still have the afternoon ritual of the library. The only thing is Baz is even jumpier now than he was months ago. Simon would like to say it’s ‘cuz the AC in the library is haywire or something, but he knows it’s Evan. Baz always looks around like a nervous puppy when they’re in public, and Simon wants to squeeze his hand in reassurance, but Baz isn’t there yet. 

God, he wishes he could hold Baz’s hand in front of everyone, tell them Baz is his. Simon knows people don’t belong to others, but he so desperately wants to tell everyone proudly that Baz is his boyfriend and they kiss and only he can kiss Baz and only Baz can kiss him, but they’re just not there yet. 

He wants to be there. 

**

They’re at some dingy bar that Penny’s American boyfriend Micah likes to go to when he visits. The place is okay, but it is the definition of ‘hole-in-the-wall’. There are some sketch people here and there, and the alcohol is very cheap for some reason. However, Micah is friends with the bartender, so Simon feels a bit better holding his shitty beer and drinking it like it’s fine wine. 

“Baz,” he whispers, low enough so that only the two of them can hear. Baz doesn’t drink too much, and Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen him truly drunk or even tipsy. “You alright?” 

There’s a flush riding high on Baz’s cheeks that peeks through his skin, and Baz smiles nervously, also clutching onto his drink, though it’s scotch instead of beer. 

“Yeah,” he responds, nodding down at Simon. “I’m just a bit tired.” They’re sitting relatively close at the bar, and Penny and Micah are dancing behind them. Simon wishes he was like Penny in that she can do anything without being embarrassed or nervous. 

Baz’s eyes trail over to where Simon is looking, and he laughs a little. “Do you think the bartender poisoned them?” he asks, and Simon laughs, too. 

“Possibly,” he responds, taking a long drink of the disgusting beer in his bottle. “I mean, Penny loves dancing and stuff, so she probably isn’t poisoned, but I’ve never seen Micah flop around like that.” It’s true. Micah looks like the composure he holds himself so close to is completely gone, which only makes Simon laugh more. It’s fun to seep people let go. 

Baz turns back to the bar and mumbles something, and when Simon looks over, he’s holding a shot glass of clear liquid. Simon doesn’t have to ask to know it’s vodka. He hates that shit, but he’s never seen Baz drink it before. He raises his eyebrows, and Baz just shrugs over at him and quirks his mouth to one side. He tips his head back easily and swallows the alcohol in one quick motion, like he’s done that a million times. 

Baz loosens up from there, and while Simon should be happy that Baz finally seems out of his realm of anxiety, it only serves to make Simon himself anxious. He loses count easily of how many shots Baz takes, and soon, he’s dragged onto the dance floor with many other sweaty bodies. Baz loses that composure to himself, and he’s dancing so close to Simon that Simon doesn’t think space exists between them anymore. 

Baz’s dancing is relatively sloppy. His movements are all over the place, his head is lurching side to side, and he’s practically clinging onto Simon’s chest. Simon holds him by the waist, propping him up as they messily collide with the awful techno music blasting over the speakers. Simon wants to let loose as much as Baz, but he’s too worried. Baz hasn’t ever been drunk in front of him, and while he looks fine from the outside, his eyes are glossy in the club lighting. 

When he finally trips over his own two feet and nearly falls face first into the floor, Simon calls it quits for the night. 

“I’m gonna take him home!” he shouts over the music to Penny, and Penny nods as she looks from Baz to Simon and back to Baz. 

Surprisingly, Baz is heavier than he looks. The two block walk to the flat is a test of strength for Simon. Baz keeps leaning on him like his legs don’t work, but Simon knows they do. He really does want to say something, but he needs to be strong for drunk Baz, who is much gigglier than Simon would’ve ever thought. 

When they finally do reach the flat, Baz collapses onto his couch-bed hybrid, and Simon sighs. Baz is still awake, his face smooshed against the pillow. His bright eyes look up at Simon like e newborn doe, searching for something on his face. 

“Come on,” Simon mumbles, picking Baz back up even though his joints and muscles ache. “You need to be in a real bed,” he adds when Baz loops his arm around Simon’s neck again. Baz giggles and presses his nose into the crook of Simon’s neck, and goosebumps raise on his skin. Baz has never really been this close to him. They’ve made out only enough times that Simon can count them on one hand, and even if he wants it to go further, he’s fine jacking off in the shower forever if that means Baz is happy. 

They stumble into the bedroom, and Simon lays Baz gently against his down cover. Baz fidgets with his shirt and stretches it over his skin so that his protruding collarbones are poking out over the edge. Simon blushes before he asks, “You all good?” 

Baz locks eyes with him and slowly nods, lifting the edge of his shirt up and over his head. Simon looks away for decency’s sake, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels warms hands tugging on his own. Simon turns around, and Baz looks heartbroken down on the bed, his shirt wrinkled in a pile at his feet. “I thought you wanted me,” he whispers. 

Simon blinks in the bleary light of the lamp he always leaves on, and he replies, “I always want you.” He crouches on the ground next to the bed, now holding Baz’s hands in his. “But you’re drunk, and that’s not right.” 

Baz sniffles and says, “Evan wanted me when I was drunk.” Simon lets first shock and then rage wash over him like a wave. Evan wanted me when I was drunk. It makes him pissed off beyond belief. “He told me it was normal,” Baz adds in a small voice, crying now into his shoulder. He’s so drunk that a few moments later, he stops crying and looks at Simon all confused. “I’m tired,” he announces, and lays back on the bed, turning towards Simon and holding his hand like a vice. 

Simon looks at him until he too falls asleep, though he’s sitting upright on the floor. 

**

Simon knows Baz doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s been days, though, and he knows they’re going to have to discuss it at some point. 

It’s hard to think that Baz was with that guy for so long. Simon thinks back to the bruises he had in the college library and the large bags under his eyes every day. It’s hard to look think back to that and know that that was what Baz was going home to every day. It’s hard to think that that’s the standard Baz has now. 

Simon wants to make it right. 

He makes reservations at a fancy restaurant he would never otherwise eat at. He picks out his best button-up and slacks and even buys a pair of new shoes for the occasion. He puts on an old grey suit he’s owned for ages, and he picks up a single rose cuz damn, they’re expensive, and he waits for Baz in the front room. 

When Baz comes him, hair an absolute mess and jacket half-off his shoulder, Simon just smiles. This is his Baz. He’s a bit messy and almost always tired and never underdressed, but this is his Baz. 

Baz looks up with his eyebrows quirked, and he notices the rose as his eyes linger there. “What’s all this?” he asks, shrugging his coat off and placing it on the rack next to him. “Did I forget something?” 

“No,” Simon laughs, shaking his head and walking forward. “I just wanted to surprise you.” Baz nods, his eyebrows still up but his frown replaced with a sweet smile. “Get changed,” Simon adds, smoothing a hand through his hair to calm his nerves. “It’s a fancy place.” 

Baz snorts and puts his messenger bag down, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door. Simon sits on the couch and waits, feeling his forehead start to warm up. What if Baz didn’t want to go on a date? What if he doesn’t like going on dates? What if…What if…What if…? 

But Baz steps out a few minutes later, and Simon does a double-take. Baz is beautiful; he always is, but this is a different type of beautiful. It’s a type of beautiful that makes Simon feel a bit hotter and forces him to hold his hands in from of him. It’s not uncomfortable, but he knows he should probably hide it. 

Baz clears his throat, and Simon shakes himself out of his mental daze. “You ready?” Simon asks, and Baz laughs and shakes his head. He nods after and extends his hand, and Simon reaches out, pricking his finger on a thorn in the rose and handing it to Baz before they walked out of the apartment together. 

**

The date goes well. Simon can’t figure out what half the stuff on the menu is, but Baz is fluent in fancy people speak and orders something that makes Simon have a mouth orgasm. Ew, he thinks to himself. He internally cringes at the phrase. But when he looks over at Baz driving through shitty traffic with Simon’s rose sticking out of his breast pocket, he can’t help but smile again. He can’t believe how fucking awesome it was. Baz had confessed he’d never been on a date, and Simon brought champagne to the table to celebrate them. 

Baz looks over and squeezes Simon’s hand. Simon’s heart does that thing it did the first time he saw Baz in the library. It kinda skips, but it also picks up really fast afterwards. It’s something that’s become so familiar but it’s still so weird. He loves it. 

Fuck, he thinks to himself. He loves Baz. 

They get to the apartment, and Penny is waiting outside for them, her bag slung over her shoulder. Simon steps out of the car with a question on his lips, but Penny beats him to it. She walks over to him so only he can hear it and says, “I’m just going to go see Agatha. She’s in town for the weekend and I’d rather get some sleep tonight.” Simon blushes crimson at that, and she takes the keys from him, says goodbye to Baz, and drives away. So it’s just Baz and Simon now. 

Simon unlocks the apartment with shaking hands. His heart is doing that weird thing again now that they’re alone. It’s the first time they’ve had the apartment to themselves. Sure, they’ve had the living room alone before, but Penny was always in the kitchen or back in her room. Now, though, it really is just them. 

Simon walks into the bedroom alone and tries to rid his stupid nerves while he takes off the grey suit. He really just wants to squeal and scream, which he has explained to both Penny and Baz are two very different things. He hangs the coat up and throws his white button-up towards the hamper. He trades his slacks for pajama bottoms and his undershirt for his loose Dr. Pepper one. Baz follows in afterwards, and Simon still tries to shake off his nerves while he waits on the couch. He even turns the tv on to calm himself, and the Disney movie that’s on does help a little. 

He hears the door behind him push open, but he doesn’t look up until Baz is beside him, his head on Simon’s shoulder and an arm holding onto his waist. And when Simon does look over, Baz’s hair is a bit wet from the sink (he had gel in it), and his eyes are a bit hooded as they sweep over Simon’s face. He takes the arm that isn’t around Simon’s waist and places his hand on Simon’s cheek, swiping his thumb over Simon’s open mouth. It catches on his bottom lip, and Baz swiftly replaces his thumb with his lips. 

Simon could pick out Baz’s lips in a lineup any day. His bottom lip is full, and his top lip is just a bit smaller. His lips are always warm on the outer ring but colder near his actual mouth. He always picks the left side of Simon’s face to lean towards, and he only opens his lips to slip his tongue in after the second kiss. It’s routine but not in a way that makes Simon wish he’d switch it up. He always moves his hand down to Simon’s jaw to cup the bottom of his cheek and swipe his thumb down to the sensitive part of his neck. Simon knows Baz knows what he’s doing; Simon always shivers when Baz does that. 

When Baz breaks away again, Simon follows for another kiss, but Baz’s fingers stop him. Simon opens his eyes in sort of a daze and looks at Baz, and his mouth is pinker than usual from where Simon’s been pulling and sucking on it, and his eyes are closed. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s pulling in large breaths through his nose. Simon places his hand over the one that cradles his face, and he asks, “What is it?” 

Baz’s eyes are still closed as he takes in a shuddering breath, and when he opens them, there are tiny tears there. Simon presses forward, cupping Baz’s cheeks and asking him if everything is alright, if he’s done something wrong. Baz just shakes his head no. “I want this,” he explains, nosing his face into the juncture of Simon’s neck and shoulder. “Fuck, I want this.” Simon can feel hot, little droplets hitting his shoulder, and he presses his cheek into Baz’s smooth hair. “I’m just so scared.” 

Simon brings his hand to Baz’s hair and cards it through the longs locks. “I’m scared, too,” he whispers, and Baz takes his face away from Simon’s shoulder, still blinking away his tears. Simon returns his hands to Baz’s cheeks. “I’m scared of fucking this up all the time,” he adds, smiling when Baz chuckles. “I’m scared of losing you or rushing this. Our first actual date was tonight because I didn’t want to push you.” He waits a second before he says, “I care so much about you.” 

Baz nods and presses his forehead against Simon’s. Their breath is shared as they both calm down. Simon presses lingering kisses to the other’s burning cheeks and smooths his own breathing. He opens his eyes and sees that Baz’s are looking straight at him. He realizes that Baz is in his lap, legs pressed to Simon’s back and chest nearly touching his own.

Simon bites his lips and whispers, “I wanna touch you.” He flushes at his own words and averts his eyes to his pajama covered legs. He feels Baz’s laugh, and then hands cover his own and move them towards Baz’s pants. 

“Then do it,” is the equally quiet response. Simon looks up through his lashes, and Baz just smiles and nods, pressing the heel of Simon’s hand against the front of his trousers, and he sighs through his nose. 

Simon’s going to combust if he looks at Baz the whole time, so he focuses on the body instead of the face. He can feel Baz’s prick through his boxers. He’s a bit longer than Simon, and just by feeling him through his pants, he’s thicker as well. The though makes Simon grow hotter than before, and he reaches a hand to press into his own prick. It feels like he’s simultaneously burning up and freezing from the inside out. He’s barely touching himself, but he this feels so much better than anything he’s ever done. 

Baz huffs impatiently above him and takes the matter into his own hands (quite literally). He impatiently pushes his boxer down to his thighs. Simon swallows thickly and presses the heel of his hand much harder onto himself, nearly bucking up into his hand. “Fuck,” he mutters, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Baz’s neck. He already knows that Baz isn’t okay with marks, so he just sticks to kissing him, and he can feel that Baz is more than alright with it. He looks down to see Baz jacking himself, and he can’t help but reach his hand down there to do it himself. 

Baz’s prick is heavier in his hand, and he stalls his kissing as he shoves his other hand into his pants. He feels another join him, and he curses again as he realizes that Baz is touching him. Baz is touching him. Before he can stop himself, he’s finishing into Baz’s fist, groaning into Baz’s neck and subconsciously squeezing the tip of Baz’s prick. Baz makes a noise that makes Simon swear he sees god. It’s beautiful and loud and right in Simon’s ear, and he’s coming again into Baz’s fist that’s still on him. 

Simon looks down and sees that Baz has finished, and he rolls his face into the crook of Baz’s neck. He feels Baz laughing, and he turns with an embarrassed smile on his face. “What?” Simon asks with a giggle. 

“Nothing,” Baz replies, and that’s when Simon realizes he’s not laughing: he’s crying. Even post-orgasm, Simon still wants to take care of him. He wipes his (admittingly disgusting) hand onto his pants and wipes Baz’s tears away. “I’m not sad,” Baz explains, though he’s sobbing. “I’m just happy.” 

Baz’s face is red, and he’s crying enough that it drips onto where his hands are limp in his lap, but Simon still blurts out, “You’re beautiful, Baz.” That just makes Baz cry harder, but Simon keeps going. “You’re so fucking wonderful, love. Fuck, I don’t know how you don’t see it.” A pause. “I love you.” 

Baz’s crying dies down in the next fifteen seconds, and even though he’s still leaking tears, he replies, “Thank you.” Simon laughs, and Baz does, too. “I love you, too, Simon Snow.” 

They clean up after that, which mostly involves Simon wiping away the dried cum on their chests and hands and cleaning away Baz’s cheeks with a very different towel. He doesn’t want Baz to go back to the couch, and it seems like Baz doesn’t either. He climbs right into the bed and next to Simon. Simon wraps his arms around Baz’s waist and snuggles close to him, whispering into Baz’s hair until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

Penny never sits on that couch again.


End file.
